Teal
by G.A. AnimeFan4
Summary: She was a mother, with a love that lasted even after death. She was with her son, every step of the way, until she knew it was time to let him go. Hitsugaya's human life.


She looks down and sighs.

Her son lay before her, head resting in her lap. He is young, with a bright smile and round eyes. Eyes that she senses can stare right down into her soul. They are an unnerving teal, yet full of curiosity and childhood wonder. But now, his lids are closed, and his breathing his even. The gentle rise and fall of his chest is proof.

Her lips curve upward as she gazes down at her boy. How he has grown from the day he was first born. When his father had held him close and given his first child his name. Gently, in smooth, careful motions, she rubs circles on his back. His rhythmic exhalation and inhalation calms her foggy mind. She's worked so hard lately, trying to support both herself and her son.

The boy shifts his weight slightly, a soft sound escaping his lips. Although he does not wake, his mother's heart skips a beat. To her, he is the most beautiful thing on Earth. He is her life.

This child, her son, no longer has a father. He died in an accident when he had been only a year old. Her husband had unwillingly left her alone to raise the boy he'd named Toushirou.

His father had been a good man. And he had named his child in hopes that he would grow into a smarter man than he. After all, the name Toushirou means 'intelligent son'. His only wish was for his kid to live long, good, and to be loved. His wife had done her best to uphold this intention.

It wasn't a job to take lightly. Not in the least. She has to work up enough to provide Toushirou and her with food, water. And of course, there was her end of the bargain. She must to show him enough love.

These are the times she cherishes. Watching him sleep, the woman realizes just how fragile he his. His tiny hand clenches, bunching up a little of her skirt. What he is dreaming, she does not know. Perhaps she does not want to. She is gone so much, and her child is left alone in the house, which must seems huge compared to his tiny self. She cannot find a sitter. Everyone fears her baby, and personally, she does not blame them.

Not only is it his rare, teal eyes. No, Toushirou has another strange characteristic. He was born with hair the color of fresh snow, so unlike her own dark. White. Thick, soft, white hair that she now runs her hand through, lightly enough as not to bring him back to reality. He had already experienced too much of that. The elders' accusing whispers, the adults' shuffling steps away, and the kids' pointing fingers. No child has white hair. No child, except this one.

His mother continues to stroke his back comfortingly.

It's times like these that she realizes more. This youth is just so innocent. He does not remember his father's death. How could he? He does not notice the pedestrian's discrimination. She shields him from that.

Or does he? Does he heed the peoples' harsh murmurs? Does he grasp the meaning of the fact that he has very few friends? Does he understand that he does not, nor will he ever, have someone to call "Papa"? After all, Toushirou has lived up to his name. He is smart for his age. Extremely smart. It would not surprise the lady if he does know of this all.

His mother prays he doesn't.

His innocence has yet to be taken away.

And she smiles lovingly down at her boy as her hand runs in lazy circles below his shoulder blades.

* * *

She had seen this coming.

After another year, she has been unable to support her son. The resources ran out. And her husband is gone, not around to assist her in her maternal duties.

The day when the accident happened was an ordinary one. That's how they all start out. Her son had been the one targeted. It was winter, and sickness was spreading like wildfire through dry brush. Some elders had already passed away from the severity.

There is one catch.

Toushirou is unaffected. The illness has completely bypassed him. And although the female parent had been relieved, that had lead led to suspicion among the villagers.

He had been targeted, she had rescued him.

As her breathing becomes scarce, and her sight becomes hazy, her hand tightens around her son's. His teal eyes stare into her own brown ones, big tears welling up in them. Far off, she can hear him cry for her, begging her not to leave him. On his cheek is a splotch of blood. _Her_ blood. His white hair is in tangles from the wind. The gale is cold. How she hates the cold, and the horrors it brings. She had lost her husband during the winter. And now, here she is, dying in front of her child, as the first snowflakes begin to fall. A single one waltzes down and lands on the tip of Toushirou's nose.

"Don't...cry...," she gasps. This is not something she wants to witness.

But his petite body is already shaking as he fails to hold down his sobs; it hurts to see, and his mother has the urge to embrace him, to tell him it will be alright. His innocence is lost.

She does not have to witness this heart-wrenching sight for long...

* * *

The woman stands alone.

There is a chain clamped around her heart. A heart that no longer beats.

But she still has a soul. For that, she _is_ but a soul now. She has unfinished business which is why she stays on the Earth plane. A wandering ghost, if you will.

Her death brought forth a great burden on her son. He is without a guardian, friends, or any human willing to show him kindness. What hurts her the most, is the shortness of it all.

The same winter. In this time, the woman has watched her child meander the streets in the shadows, dressed in thin clothing, on his own. He would never shiver. She has seen him steal food once in a while, when he is desperate. And she has observed the boy sleep in alleys, hugging himself in a corner as he attempted to rest. Sometimes she would sit next to him and begin to rub his back like she would all those nights before her death. He wouldn't feel it, and she never, _never_, felt him shiver.

There was one man who showed him kindness, once. He'd handed Toushirou a piece of bread, in which he had thanked him quietly. He hadn't used his voice in a long while. But even that man disappeared, and the boy was alone once again.

And then came the day he gave up.

She is helpless to do anything but hold him in her vapor-like form as he collapses in the snow. He has given up on seeking help in the village, and leaves for the hill where they had once sat. She could remember telling him stories and he would giggle in her lap.

He has walked and walked and walked. Not fast, but a steady, slow pace that has only become weaker. And she sees him give a shudder, then fall to the ground, a powdery cloud of snow billowing about him. His mother screams and runs to him. She lies next to him and embraces his small body. His skin is colder than the icicles on the trees. His usual lively teal eyes have become hollow as he gazes up at dancing flakes. Her son is exhausted, and close to the end.

Tears stream down her cheeks, while his are dry. Come to think of it, she has not seen him cry since she died. Has he lost the ability to do so?

And she comes to two more terrible realizations.

She has failed him. For now, here he drifts away from the very reality she had protected him from.

He has been lonely. Deathly so. Yearning for a friend, for his mother, and being tossed aside like a useless rag.

She stays with him until he lets out the tiniest of sighs, barely audible, and the twinkle in his eyes fade.

* * *

Junrinan, Rukongai.

It is summer, and the air is warm, almost hot, as the children flock the streets. Vendors wave food and other products out to pedestrians, urging them to purchase. Passersby greet each other as crickets buzz loudly, giving the heated day a little more life.

Among these people is Hinamori Momo.

She has not entered the Academy yet. It will still be a year or two until then. Instead, she is still maturing, and living in this district.

As she walks, she notices a woman whom she had never seen before buying a bag of rice. And due to the fact that she is a friendly person, she strolls over, her companion following with a heavy huff.

Hinamori stops in front of the stand and smiles up at the stranger. There are many strangers in Rukongai, those who she has not met. But the girl is always looking to chat with someone new. The younger of the two disapproves, claiming it's a waste of time.

"_Konnichiwa_, ma'am," Hinamori dips her head to the woman, and she looks over.

"It is, isn't it?" she smiles kindly at her. And Hinamori realizes that this woman's eyes are a dark, soft brown, like her dark, thick hair, which is tied back.

"_Hai_," the smaller female nods. She turns to the man selling the rice. "May I have a bag?" She pays and hands the bag to the boy behind her. "Shiro-chan, will you hold this?"

The boy glares over at her with challenging teal eyes. His arms are behind his head in a bored expression. "Why do I have to?"

"Because I asked you nicely."

He looks at her for a moment, before groaning and taking the bag from her. Hinamori faces the woman she had been talking to, only to find her staring at Toushirou.

"Are you alright?"

The women with brown eyes blinks and smiled at her again. "Of course, my apologies! I wish you a great day!"

Hinamori bows once more before strolling past her, Toushirou trailing behind. She does not blame him for being cranky. She has been dragging him around town since morning, and he must be growing tired. They will rest soon, though. He is young, and still has short legs.

She notices that his footsteps have stopped, and Hinamori peeks over her shoulder to find him eyeing the woman suspiciously. His white hair needs to be combed again, she sees, and makes a mental note to remind him. The woman is glancing over as well.

"Shiro-chan, are you coming?"

The boy grunts and begins to trudge along again. "Yeah. And stop calling me that, already!"

"Nope!"

"Eh~"

* * *

The woman whom they had been speaking to watches the polite young lady and the white-haired boy leave.

But her thoughts are on those eyes. Those _teal_ eyes.

"My name is not Shiro-chan!" the familiar male calls after her as he hurries to catch up. "When are you going to call me by last name, Momo? _Hitsugaya_!"

The female giggles and pauses, only to pat his head affectionately. "When you're older."

The woman's heart nearly stops at the name. And she knows.

For her last wish before she died was to remember her family, her son, and the love she had for them.

But she does not stop him. She merely watches as Toushirou rushes after this 'Momo' as she begins to run. He is fast, she remarks, as he keeps her pace easily. And soon, she hears him laugh. A sound she thought she would never hear again.

And his mother forces herself to look away, to allow him to live on with this new life of his without her holding him back. She smiles, and she heads the opposite direction.

* * *

_A/N: We all have our own take on what Hitsugaya's life was like before he died and became a Shinigami, right? Here's mine from his mother's point of view! Obviously, there was never a mention of anything like this, so I couldn't have her run up and hug him in happy tears, though I would have enjoyed that. I have to keep it along the with the plot. So, I had her recognize him, then leave him be so he could live his life, since he obviously does not remember her. _

_As for the time of the first part of this One-Shot? I'll leave that up to you. No one knows the exact age of Hitsugaya, so I made an estimated guess. Your decision, though, whether Ancient Japan, or a little less-ancient Japan. How she died, the 'accident'? Use you imagination! And for never mentioning her name, sorry, but I thought I'd leave a little mystery. And if I happened to have written anything resembling someone else's work, it was a complete accident!_

_This is my first Bleach story, so I will perfectly understand any advice or even fire. But please be nice... Technically, his mother was an OC, and I get it if people dislike that. But please review and tell me how I did. I tried a completely new style of this, too, so this is one huge risk for me._

_And of course, I do not own Bleach._

_-G-A;)_


End file.
